


Set me on fire

by crazywineaunt



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angry dragons, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Chains, Dark Arthur, Dark Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Death, Execution, Gaius is So Done (Merlin), Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Injury, Killing, King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Magic, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Minor Violence, Past Character Death, Reincarnation, Unhappy Ending, Violence, Warlocks, Whump, the whole city finds out lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25957582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazywineaunt/pseuds/crazywineaunt
Summary: Uther is dead, felled by dryads, and Arthur is off on witch hunts. He will erase sorcery's very existence if it's up to him.There is no place for magic in Camelot, and Merlin's magic is revealed in the worst way possible.ora dark rendition of S1: Episode 1 (The Dragon's Call)
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	Set me on fire

**Author's Note:**

> _The evil, it spread like a fever ahead  
>  It was night when you died, my firefly  
> What could I have said to raise you from the dead?  
> -Fourth of July, Sufjan Stevens _  
> 
> 
>   
>   
> 

Merlin was convinced he was going to spontaneously burst into flames any second. He scratched at his forearms for the millionth time, leaving angry red lines in his wake. He had been reaching for his magic in sneaky bits and bursts throughout the journey to Camelot, but now that he was in the city, he couldn’t afford to display one errant spark.

**_You and I know your magic is a gift, my firefly. But Camelot’s king isn’t nearly as forgiving. You will have to hide it, for now._ **

He really wished he hadn’t underestimated his power and released more of it before entering the city walls. It felt like the furnace inside him that usually provided comforting warmth had grown into a raging inferno, melting his organs from the inside out.

High noon sunrays shone down unforgivingly on the cobblestones. The heat radiating from the ground definitely wasn’t doing Merlin’s burning feet any favours. He tugged at his neckerchief and pulled it free, wiping at the sweat dripping down his forehead in a fruitless attempt to alleviate some of the heat.

The marketplace heaved and bustled around the young warlock, oblivious to his plight. Merlin was already overwhelmed by how _loud_ Camelot was, compared to the small town he had grown up in. But this rising crescendo wasn’t normal, even for a villager like him. The chatter of Camelot’s citizens blasted in his ears. Even familiar noises, like barking dogs and crowing roosters, were unwelcome intruders. It was like his senses had been heightened as a side effect of his magic leaking out of his pores, seeking a way, any way to escape its mortal cage.

“Hark, you there! Could I interest you in some oils?”

 _Ow_. Merlin groaned and swung his head towards the hawker’s call sluggishly. At least, he hoped it was the right direction. With all the noise attacking his hearing from all directions, he wasn’t too sure.

The hawker’s eyes glittered as he marked Merlin as a potential customer. He unscrewed a bottle and unceremoniously shoved it under Merlin’s nose. The unmistakable scent of freshly distilled cypress oil, magnified tenfold, assaulted his olfactory senses. Merlin stumbled back, hand clamped over his nose.

“It does wonders relieving body aches, stress, and –”

The man paused mid sales pitch, faint concern etching his features as he noticed Merlin’s state.

“You alright there, boy?”

“I –”

The discordant clanging of church bells cut off Merlin’s half-baked explanation. Each mournful chime felt like a wild horse’s kick to his head. Merlin gripped at fistfuls of his hair, gritting his teeth against the intense pain lancing through him. A detachment of riders rounded the corner, their stallions’ hooves thundering and kicking up clouds of dust. The previously lively crowd around him had gone dead silent as soon as the bells started their song, all conversations screeching to a halt.

“Halt!” A clear voice pierced through the air, bold and golden. Something about it tugged at his core and Merlin looked up unbidden despite his pain. He blinked. The road around him was suddenly empty of people. Every man, woman and child slunk into the shadows, heads bowed and down on one knee. Merlin tried to make eye contact with someone, anyone, to no avail.

“Do I know you?”

Merlin dragged his attention back to the golden voice. Its owner possessed a mane of golden hair as well. The man was at the head of the retinue of knights, dressed from head to toe in glittering chainmail and an impractically long (at least, Merlin thought so) glaring red cloak. This, combined with his pure ivory stallion, made him incredibly hard to look at in direct sunlight for more than a few seconds.

“I’m M-Merlin,” Merlin said, shielding his eyes lest he went blind from the human sun that had apparently decided to descend upon him.

The man’s brilliant blue eyes narrowed.

“So, I don’t know you.”

“No.”

“Yet, you do not bow.”

Merlin’s hackles rose at the audacity of this arrogant bastard. What was the point of this conversation again? His eyes flicked to the knights behind the prat. They looked vaguely uncomfortable, shooting each other looks when they thought their leader wasn’t looking.

“Tell me, _Merlin_ , do you know how to walk on your knees?”

“No,” Merlin muttered. It was getting harder to keep track of this conversation as his body rebelled more and more with each passing moment.

One of the knight’s horses snorted and moved, revealing a small figure behind it. The heavy steel links chaining the figure’s wrists to the horse’s saddle clinked jarringly in the oppressive silence as she lifted her head. Merlin’s breath hitched as the prisoner’s dark curtain of hair parted and their eyes met in a flare of gold. Like calling to like.

This was no ordinary prisoner.

No. _No_. This was not his fight.

Gaius. Mother had advised him to locate Gaius. Merlin turned on his heel, but he was blocked yet again. The group’s leader seemed to have given his knights a silent command; they encircled the young sorcerer, trapping him in.

His magic bubbled to the surface defensively, railing against his insides like a battering ram. Merlin breathed deeply, hands clenching and unclenching as he pushed it down again. This was not the time nor the place for an outburst.

The blonde prat dismounted from his horse, his riding boots landing on the cobblestones with a dull thud. He moved towards Merlin, one hand on his sword’s hilt.

Anyone else would have been terrified by such an obviously skilled fighter advancing upon them. The only thing that unnerved Merlin was the man’s eyes. They held no emotion, only some sort of cold resignation. The expression warred with the laughter lines around his eyes; a sign of a man who laughed often and without holding back.

He wasn’t laughing now.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Merlin said.

 _Stop. Please stop._ Merlin didn’t know how much longer he could keep his magic in check, and he certainly didn’t want to find out in the middle of the street.

The man chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Why? What are you going to do to me?”

Merlin snorted. “You have no idea.”

He had seen men like this before. Angry at the world, or at themselves, looking for anyone and anything to lash out at. Merlin seemed to have a penchant for attracting them, like flies to honey. Which was fine, but telling his magic to restrain itself from protecting him, violently more often than not, was another story.

**_Breathe, little firefly. You control your inner flame, not the other way around._ **

One. Two. Three.

Breathe in.

One. Two. Three.

Breathe out.

This wasn’t working.

The man was near swinging distance now. Maybe he could pretend to throw a punch, be disregarded as an inept simpleton as he had been so many times before.

Before Merlin could make a decision either way, the horrible clanking of chains broke the silence again, amplified by Merlin’s magic and thus even more grating on his ears. He groaned, hands coming up to cover them. The blond prat huffed in annoyance and turned around to deal with his prisoner, sword drawn. The prisoner in question was clawing at her restraints with chipped nails, choking out guttural words that sounded nearly human, but not quite.

Her glazed eyeballs swiveled until they found Merlin, locking him once again in a stare-down, but this time she didn’t allow him to break free. A faint smile etched her bloodied lips as her eyes gazed into his soul.

_Emrys._

The feminine voice flowed through his mind like clear lake water, soothing his own internal fire and quieting the cacophony of noises in his head. Not extinguishing it, but wrapping around it like a translucent film. It reminded Merlin of the gelatinous plant substance his mother would apply to his scrapes and cuts to cool them down. His shoulders relaxed and he sagged forward a little, relaxing bit by bit. The prisoner’s magic smelled like wildflowers and light. Wait. Light? Were you supposed to be able to smell light? He shrugged it off. It didn’t matter; this feeling was like floating on still waters after the agony of his overflowing magic.

Merlin tested the mental river flowing between them, sending a question back over the current.

_Who are you?_

Another smile from her, this time a little wider. Merlin couldn’t help but smile back.

_My name is Freya-_

Merlin jolted as the cool film holding his magic in check collapsed and the ugly rattling of a chain being pulled ravaged his ear canals. The knights’ leader tugged at the chain attached to Freya’s collar again, lips curling in an amused smile as she lurched forward and fell on her hands and knees. She cried out as her knees scraped against the hot cobblestones.

Tendrils of wild magic rose from her battered body, reaching towards Merlin like arms reaching out for aid. His magic rose up in sympathy and he tried to repress it, but it was akin to throwing a bucket of water at a raging forest fire. Out of control and knowing only one purpose: _protect_ , it exploded outwards with a force that shook the street’s very foundations. The circle of horses snorted in alarm, rearing back. Their riders tried desperately to soothe their mounts, looking more than a little alarmed themselves.

The blonde let go of the chain as if burned, grimacing in pain as he turned his hand over, staring at the burn mark in disbelief before turning his blue gaze on Merlin, flinching when he noticed the gold ring burning in Merlin’s irises.

“ _Sorcerer,_ ” he spat out. The word fell between the two men like an iron gate crashing down, heavy and immovable.

Merlin looked on in detached dread as his right arm was pulled upward by unseen strings of his own magic.

**_You control your inner flame, not the other way around._ **

He wanted to cry at how untrue his mother’s statement was now. Maybe he would have, if he had any semblance of control over his own tear ducts. But he had been keeping his fire in chains for too long, and it wanted out.

Storm clouds roiled overhead, throwing a dark blanket over the sun and drenching the vibrant marketplace in streaks of drab grey.

What happened next took all of ten seconds to transpire, but Merlin watched the events unfold in slow motion in some sort of bizarre out of body experience. The sky cracked, and fat rain drops poured down in a flash flood, escorted by bolts of lightning that struck each knight. They dropped like dead flies, one by one.

The only one shielded from the downpour of death was Freya. Her jaw had fallen open in shock and she was yelling something at him, but her words were silenced by the thunderous rumbling of his storm.

A lightning bolt struck the group’s leader once, twice.

The man stood unaffected, sturdy and unyielding as a statue of gold. His chiseled features twisted into righteous anger and dismay, twisting more and more as his knights fell like dominoes.

Each strike took something out of Merlin, like his magic was actively trying to act against its nature.

At the third strike, Merlin sank to his knees. His insides felt like they had been carved out, leaving nothing behind but a hollowed-out shell. Merlin wiggled a finger experimentally, smiling wryly when it responded to him. The storm clouds cleared, allowing blinding sunshine to stream down unhindered again. His magic had deserted him after its tantrum, leaving him behind to deal with the aftermath of the shitstorm that had revealed his secret in such a spectacular fashion. Fantastic.

“Gwaine. Lancelot. Capture him while he’s down.” The prat sounded a little shaken, but his speech was just as molten gold as before Merlin had murdered his entire retinue, if not as bold.

Merlin jerked as two sets of rough hands grabbed his arms and tied them behind him. Soaked red cloaks entered the edges of his vision. Merlin exhaled in half relief, half exasperation. He hadn’t managed to cut down all the knights, apparently. He tried to struggle against the chains binding his wrists together, but they only wrapped around tighter, leeching any remnants of power left in his body and leaving him even more drained and tired, if that was even possible. Merlin hissed in pain as they seared into his wrists; he had heard of chains that blocked magic and written them off as hearsay. He hadn’t wanted to believe that anything so vile could exist.

He had been naïve.

In any case, the fact that they were powered by the captive’s own magic was an unwelcome touch that he was now uncomfortably aware of. Merlin chanced a glance at Freya; her collar was made of the same metal. It was no small wonder that her vocal cords sounded like they were shredded. He didn’t want to know how long she had been forced to wear that monstrosity.

His chin was forced upwards by a hand. Merlin glared up at the unnerving blue eyes staring down at him. If his mother had taught him anything, it was to never back down when shit had hit the wall. The blonde turned his face this way and that, as if looking for something. He didn’t seem to find it, because he let go abruptly, fixing his stony gaze on the two knights that had chained Merlin’s hands.

“Take him to the cells,” he commanded, authority ringing clear and true.

“What, who do you think you are? The king?”, Merlin slurred.

The golden man’s lips thinned, eyes darkening with an unknown emotion. Merlin tilted his head curiously, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. He burned so _bright._ Like a tiny sun. Merlin smiled at the thought and let his eyes fall shut, a relieved sigh escaping him at the reprieve from the brightness.

Gods, he was _tired._ He wanted to curl up in his bed back home and sleep for three days straight.

After what seemed like an eternity, the sun replied, icy tone at odds with its heat.

“Yes, I am. King Arthur of Camelot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I did twist episode 1 dialogue to suit my needs :D
> 
> Thoughts are always welcome in the comments ~


End file.
